


The Dumbledore Line

by Virginia_Blue



Category: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies), Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, Not straightwashing Dumbledore don't worry, Pureblood Inheritance Laws
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-23
Updated: 2020-05-09
Packaged: 2020-10-26 13:41:52
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 12,929
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20743127
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Virginia_Blue/pseuds/Virginia_Blue
Summary: Albus and Leta share something nobody else understands-- the pain from knowing you killed your own sibling. Can they find solace in the friendship of the other during these dark times, or will they succumb to their inner demons after all?





	1. We're monsters

**Author's Note:**

> My rewriting of the conversation between them in The Crimes of Grindelwald, and where that conversation could have gone.

“Hello, Leta. This is a surprise.” Of course, Albus was lying. He knew full well that Leta Lestrange accompanied Theseus and his buddies on this not-so-friendly call to Hogwarts.

Taking her hand away from where she had been tracing her and Newt’s initials, reminiscing on times long gone, Leta quickly closed the desk and stood up. “Finding me in a classroom? Was I such a bad student?”

“On the contrary,” Albus took a step toward her as she took one away, “you were one of my cleverest.”

Quickly and angrily, Leta shot back “I said bad, not stupid.” Sighing, she gave him a sad smile after that. “Don’t bother answering. I know you never liked me.”

Albus shook his head and spoke entreatingly. “I never thought you bad.”

“You were alone then.” Leta took a few steps toward the exit, and Albus knew he was missing his window to get his point across. 

“Leta, I know how painful the rumours about your brother Corvus must be for you--”

Leta spun around angrily, her exit plans temporarily forgotten. “No, you don’t. Not unless you had a brother who died too.”

“In my case, it was my sister.” Albus’s voice was quiet, but strong and earnest. Lena didn’t doubt his sincerity. 

“Did you love her?”

Albus walked forward until he was only two steps in front of Lena. “Not as well as I should have done.” Holding her gaze with his for a long moment, Albus desperately tried to convey his warning. “It is never too late to free yourself. Regret is my constant companion. Do not let it become yours.” 

Leta scoffed, but looked hopeful beneath everything. “Free myself? And how do you suggest I do that?”

“I’ve heard confiding in another works wonders.”

“You want me to confess?” Leta asked angrily, and Albus did not fail to notice her subconscious changing of the word ‘confide.’ “What, to you? While you sit here, the superior coward?”

“I just want a better life for you than the one you are giving yourself, Leta.”

Leta looked away, nearly crying. Suddenly she turned back and fixed him with a stare. “I will if you will.”

“What?” Albus was shocked.

“If you confess, so will I. Otherwise I’m taking my secret to as early a grave as I can manage without bringing shame on my precious family name.”

Albus closed his eyes, frightened of his secret, of himself. “I cannot.”

Lena tried not to let herself think about the regret she felt in that moment, and instead scoffed and said “Then goodbye.”

She made it to the door and was turning the handle when she heard a strained voice behind her say “Leta, wait.”

She turned around, not sure what to expect, but an Albus Dumbledore sitting with his head in his hands and shoulders hunched was not it. And she certainly didn’t expect his next words. 

“I killed her. I killed my sister.”

“Wh-what?” Leta choked out. 

Albus looked up at her with pained eyes and a heavy heart. “I got in a fight with my brother, and it came to drawn wands. My spells mixed with Gellert’s,” Leta’s face showed immense surprise at that, “and his mixed with Aberforth’s and somewhere in there… it happened.”

He looked up at Leta, gripping the edge of the desk he was leaning against like it was a lifeline. “I wake up every night in a cold sweat reliving that moment. Because I killed her. Even if it wasn’t my spell that struck the death bell, it was my arrogance, my neglect, my temper, my love for Gellert and our obsession with power…”

“You wanted a confession, Leta? I killed my sister. How’s that?” Albus spoke the last words with defiance and pain, willing her to condemn him with the vehemence he deserved. He turned around, putting his back toward her, and waited to hear either the muttered spell or the slamming of the door. Instead, he felt a small hand on his shoulder.

Turning around gently, he found himself looking down into the dark and understanding eyes of Leta. “How do you live with it? How do we live with what we’ve done?”

“We?” Albus watched her with confusion. Instead of the disgust in her eyes that he expected, he saw only a mirror image of his own. Understanding, pain, regret, every unspoken secret and burden that he carried within himself.

Leta took a half step back and visibly steeled herself. “Yes, we. I killed my brother.” 

Albus hardly dared to breathe.

“I- I was tired of his crying so I switched him with a quiet baby. His life raft went down. Mine didn’t.”

She took a hold of Albus’s hand and squeezed it tightly. “I didn’t mean to.”

He reached up to wipe a tear from her cheek. “I know.”

“We’re monsters.” Her voice was factual, not questioning.

“Yes.” His was the same.

“So what do we do?”

Albus gave a wet chuckle. “Beyond wallowing in self pity I don’t have much of a plan.”

She smiled a smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. “Yeah. Mind if I join you some time?”

“Join me?”

“For wallowing. I think I could use a good wallow.”

“Yes. Yes, I think that would be amenable. I believe you know where I live,” he gestured to the building around them.

This time her smile touched at the corners of her eyes. “I’ll bring the booze.”

“I’ve no doubt you will, Leta. No doubt at all.”

The door banged open then and Theseus came in. “Leta, there you are!”

He pulled up short as he saw Leta take hasty steps away from Albus, who she had been far closer to than was appropriate in Theseus’s mind. Leta silently made her way toward the door while Theseus and Albus had a stare down.

“Theseus,” Albus broke the silence with a jovial smile and a wink.

Theseus’s hand twitched for his wand, but his desire to live kept it firmly in its sheath. He knew better than to goad Albus Dumbledore into a fight. Getting out a terse “Albus,” Theseus stalked after Leta and left the room.


	2. An Unbreakable Loophole

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Leta and Albus hatch a plot.

“Another!” Leta slammed her mug down on Albus’s table and grinned at him, starting to feel the effects of the alcohol in her system.

“Alright alright, hold your thestrals.” He grabbed the bottle of firewhisky and poured each of them another splash.

Several months had passed since their emotional confessions in the empty classroom, and they had settled into a rhythm of sorts. Every Friday night Albus would enter his private rooms to find Leta seated at his table with a bottle in her hand. They laughed and cried and drank and bared their souls in ways that they had never felt free to do before.

When their evenings first started Leta would slip away and return home in the early hours of the morning, wanting to be there when Theseus inevitably called on her Saturday morning. As time went on, however, she found herself caring less. These last three weeks saw her sleeping over at Albus’s and not returning to her place until midday Saturday. Theseus was angry and suspicious, but as he couldn’t disprove her cleverly thought of excuses he didn’t really have a leg to stand on.

This Friday was like any other, starting with Albus launching into a tirade about some other members of the staff while he and Leta sunk a few drinks in. Leta had a question that had been nagging at her though, and on her fourth drink she decided to ask, propriety be damned. 

“Albus, I never asked you something.”

“You’ve asked me a great many things, Leta,” Albus chuckled.

“No no no” her words were only slightly slow. “I never asked you what you meant by your love for Gellert. Like, love? Or love love?” She waggled her eyebrows at him, trying to convey that she wasn’t judging either way.

Albus sighed deeply and leaned back in his chair. “Love love, Leta. Romantic, sexual, earth shattering love.”

Leta didn’t look surprised, only thoughtful. “Yeah but like, how?”

“Do you mean why him, or mechanically?” It was a testament to their friendship that Albus didn’t shy away from her questions and was even able to jest back.

She laughed and wrinkled her nose. “Why him, definitely.”

“I guess it was a matter of the right time and the right place. I had to cancel my tour abroad to come home and care for my sister after she killed out mom--”

“Wait what?” Leta definitely hadn’t heard that part before.

“I told you about my sister’s attack when she was young and how my father was sent to Azkaban, right?”

“Yes.”

“Well it broke something in her, something on a fundamental and magical level. She would have episodes sometimes where her magic burst out uncontrollably, and unfortunately one day it hit our mom in a bad way.”

“Shit, Albus.” Leta reached over and grabbed his hand, squeezing lightly. “That sucks.”

Albus laughed at her eloquent display of empathy, and gave her hand a squeeze back. “Yes, it certainly did suck.”

“But back to the story. I was stuck at home, resenting my life and my family, when suddenly this brilliant young man comes into Godric’s Hollow to stay with his aunt. Gods, Leta, he was beautiful.”

Leta wished she could take the sadness away from his face. 

“He was the only man I had ever met who could match my intelligence and my ambition. We fell in right away, and what started as late nights debating magical theory and history quickly turned into late nights of the most passionate and unbridled sex I had ever experienced. I fell head over heels.”

Leta stood up and pulled his hand. “Let’s move to the couch, come on.”

She sat down and pulled him down next to her, making him lay his head in her lap as he looked up at the ceiling.

“Have you ever loved anyone else?”

He smiled at her. “In different ways, I suppose, but nothing has ever matched that perfect storm of a summer.”

“Do you think you ever want to again? Love?”

“Not like that, no. That kind of love is dangerous, and I know myself well enough now to know I am not to be trusted with it. I would like a companion though. Someone to confide in and share my life with, someone to have a child with.” He gave a wry laugh. “Not like that’s an option for me.”

“I’ve always wanted a child,” Leta responded, surprising both her and Albus. He carefully kept his body relaxed and face neutral, sensing this was something of a big moment for her, and simply said “Oh?”

“Yeah, but I can’t do that to a babe.”

“Why not? I think you would be an excellent mother.”

Leta shrugged. “Maybe I would, maybe I wouldn’t. It doesn’t matter. I could never bring a child into this world with the Lestrange name. To make them carry that shame their entire life.” She shook her head strongly.

“I know you hold no love for Theseus, but could he not give you a Scamander child?”

“No. As you well know, my father has no son. I saw fit to that.” Her voice took on a formal quality as she continued, almost like she was reciting from a legal book. “The Scamanders have two sons, and therefore two possibilities of carrying on the Scamander line. As such, the Lestrange name supercedes the Scamander name in the event of my marriage to Theseus. He would become a Lestrange, gain the seat of Lord Lestrange, and our children would be Lestranges.”

She fell into a bitter silence, and her pain hurt Albus’s heart. 

“If it’s any consolation, my sister is dead, I have sex with men, and my brother has sex with animals. The Dumbledore line is dead.”

She hummed quietly before remarking in a mildly interested voice, “You know, if your brother were dead you could father my child and it would bear the Dumbledore name.”

He stilled. “Would it really?”

“It would. Remember your pureblood lessons? Your family if older, and you are the eldest male. I am not. It’s a shame he’s still kicking, because that would solve our issues.”

“Aberforth wouldn’t have to die though, if I’m recalling my lessons correctly.” Albus sat up and turned excitedly to face Leta. “He merely has to have no hope of conception.”

Leta, not sure where he was headed, said “I don’t think ‘prefers sex with animals’ is sufficient legal reason.”

“No, no, I think not… But what about an unbreakable vow to father no children?”

This time Leta stilled, clearly intrigued. “Legally sound, but why do you ask?”

“Because he made one. With me.”

“What!?” Leta nearly choked, not sure whether she was hearing him correctly.

“It was his condition not to turn me in for Ariana’s murder. He knew I cared about legacy, and he wanted me to know that it was my fault our line would die. I killed her, I am not inclined toward women, and he would vow away any other chance of our line continuing. Not that he ever particularly enjoyed women himself, but still.”

Leta sat in silence for long enough to concern Albus. “Leta?”

She swivelled her gaze to meet his and asked “Well, what do you say?”

“To what?”

“Do you want to have a kid with me? A baby Dumbledore?”

Scarcely believing that she was serious, Albus stuttered out a weak “We are unwed. It would not take my name.”

She laughed, happy for the first time in as long as she could remember. “Then let’s go get married! At the ministry, tomorrow. I can grease a few pockets to keep it a records room only occurrence and out of the prophet. Nobody will know.”

“What about Theseus?” Albus wanted to make sure she was serious before getting his hopes up.

“I was never going to go through with it anyway, you know that. He isn’t me.”

“And Newt?”

“Newt… Newt isn’t me either. He loves me, and I will always love him, but he’s too good. Too pure and innocent and kind and he tries to make me fit that mould too.” Her voice was sad but determined. “I…”

“You have seen too much and done too much to ever fit Newt’s childlike worldview.”

“Exactly.” Leta looked into Albus’s eyes and thanked her lucky stars that she found a man who could finally understand her. 

“Okay.”

“Okay?” Leta had to make sure she heard him correctly.

He laughed openly and grinned. “Okay. Let’s do it!”

“Really?!”

“Yes, really. Let’s go get married tomorrow, and then let’s get you pregnant.”

Leta launched herself at him and they clung tightly together, laughing and crying well into the night.


	3. Covenant

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Albus and Leta get married.

“Miss Lestrange, Mr. Dumbledore, what can I do for you this evening?” 

The fact that the clerk recognized their names immediately meant this was going to be difficult. Leta was used to being well-known, as was Albus, but not many people knew them by face as well as name. Clearly this clerk was used to reading the gossip rags and talking about the pureblood elite. Getting her to stay quiet would take some finessing.

Leta was thinking about this, and how to work the problem, when Albus opened his mouth. “We have a small task for you to perform, but it’s of a sensitive nature. How much do we need to give you to keep what happens next a secret?”

The clerk looked both like all her dreams just came true and like she just woke up from a 10 hour nap. “I'm sorry, what?”

“It’s a simple question,” Albus looked at her desk and saw her name plate, “Millicent. How much do I need to give you for you to keep our secrets to yourself.”

The clerk was clearly still confused and looked around like she thought this might be a trap. “We can't take bribes, sir. It’s against ministry policy.”

“Come now, don't play coy. It’s not a bribe, it’s a payment. We need your expertise, authority, and discretion. The first two are givens for your job, while the third is not.”

“Precisely,” Leta jumped in. “We’re asking you to perform a task you are not duty bound to perform, and as such we will compensate you for your work.” The clerk nodded along subconsciously to Leta’s words. “The question remains, how much?”

“Well, what do you want me to do?”

“We'll talk about that after we secure your vow.”

“I would really feel better if--”

“Listen, Millie,” Leta spoke with the epitome of ice. “I was of the mind to just threaten to make sure you lose your job and your government perks, but Albus here thought we should make you an offer first. Let us give you something and do what we ask, or get nothing and lose everything. Your call.”

Millicent sat in contemplative silence and realized she didn’t really have any options. She might as well try to get something out of the situation and hope what they asked her to do wasn’t too egregious. “Okay,” she spoke quietly.

“Wonderful. What can we do for you?”

“Get me tickets to the Malfoy Yule Ball this year.” Millicent’s mother was a half-blood, so she had never been given access to the upper echelons of society. She was husband shopping though, and going to the Yule Ball was a who’s who of who’s who. 

Leta saw the gears turning in Millicent’s head and smiled approvingly. “Done.”

“Okay, now that that's settled,” Albus said with extreme cheer and bounced on his heels, “We would like to get married.”

The clerk was knocked out of her planning for the ball and choked in shock. “Wha-What?”

“Marriage, my dear.” Leta bit out impatiently, speaking to the clerk as though she were an idiot.

“Bu-But what about Mr. Scamander, and aren’t you--” she cut off suddenly, looking at Albus in fear.

“What I am, and what Miss Lestrange’s relationship status is, are two things that are none of your concern.” Albus’s voice grew colder and his eyes lost their twinkle. “I thought your position was abundantly clear, given our generous payment.”

The clerk cast her eyes down to the counter, properly chastised. “Of course, Mr. Dumbledore. I’ll get the forms right away.” She turned and quickly scurried off to the back, leaving Leta and Albus alone. 

Leta looked at Albus and laughed suddenly, startling him. 

“What on earth is so funny?”

“Sorry, but I just had the strangest realization.”

“Care to enlighten the class, Miss Lestrange?”

“Oh don’t go all professor on me, Albus,” Leta swatted his arm playfully. “I merely realized that had I been with anyone else, they would have chastised me for being too mean to that poor girl. Told me to stop being so intimidating or some such stupid moral qualm.”

He smiled down at her and replied “Yes, well, you can’t help that people are terrified of your existence. And I think there comes a time for subtle, and not so subtle, displays of power and intimidation.”

Leta was about to respond when the clerk bustled back out of the back room with several sheets of parchment clutched in her hand, and she turned her full attention to the task at hand. 

“Here we are,” she placed the sheets on the desk and slid the quill toward the pair. “One contract of marriage, filled out automatically with the details of the match once each of you writes your name.”

Albus went first, writing his name in tall, wide letters, and Leta followed after with her short and pointed script. Then they stood together and watched as the remainder of the document filled in their genealogical and legal backgrounds. Finally, as the ink reached the bottom of the page, two signature lines were created, with descriptions above each one.

“With his signature, Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore, heir to the Dumbledore seat, sole proprietor of the Dumbledore line, assumes the spousal covenant with Leta Lestrange.”

“With her signature, Leta Laurena Lestrange, heir to the Lestrange seat, sole proprietor of the Lestrange line, submits to the Dumbledore line, and assumes the spousal covenant with Albus Dumbledore as Leta Laurena Dumbledore.”

Seeing her name written without the attached Lestrange hit Leta to the core, and she reached out to touch the parchment in awe and reverence. Albus silently handed her the quill, holding his breath for what he knew was going to be a life changing moment for them both. 

With a deep breath, Leta took the quill, and leaned forward to sign her name. Pausing before her surname, she smiled as she finished the signature with a swooping “Dumbledore.”

Albus gently took the quill from her and leaned forward to sign his name. 

After signing, the clerk rolled up the parchment, magically sealed it, and set it on the desk next to her. “You’re all set, Mr. and Mrs. Dumbledore.”

Leta suppressed her smile and fixed Millicent with a chilly stare. “Not a word.”

Gulping, Millicent shook her head. “Of course not.”

With that, Albus took Leta’s hand and pulled her excitedly in the direction of the floo. When they reached the fireplace, he leaned down and pecked her on the cheek. “After you, Mrs. Dumbledore.”

“Thank you, dear husband.” Leta laughed and grabbed a pinch of floo powder before heading to his office with a practice flick of her wrist. He followed immediately after.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have no idea what Leta's middle name is and I couldn't find it, so I used her mother's name. The L alliteration worked out that way too.


	4. Conception

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They're having a baby, y'all.

“You do know what to do… right?” Leta stood naked before Albus, who sat, equally naked, on the edge of his bed.

He scoffed in irritation. “Of course I do. It’s not difficult in theory, just…” 

“In execution.”

“Exactly.”

Leta hummed in thought. “You hold a mastery in transfiguration. How about you make me into something a little more your taste?”

“You would be okay with that?”

“I don’t see why not.” She shrugged. “But, if I may offer some advice?”

Albus nodded. 

“Sex is sex. Focus on the sensation, let it feel good, and don’t connect it to me or to your emotions.”

Throwing his hands against the bed spread, Albus huffed in frustration. “This is stupid. You’re right, let’s just do this.”

Leta laughed at his clear lack of enthusiasm. “Close your eyes, Albus. Focus on the sensations you’re feeling.”

With that, she reached out and wrapped her hand around him, causing him to jump. “Just relax, dear.”

Using slow strokes and a deft touch, Leta worked him to nearly full hardness over the course of a few minutes. Wanting to bring him to the brink faster, she leaned down and planted a kiss on his head. When he bucked his hips and grunted in pleasant surprise, she opened her mouth and took him deeper. 

When he was close, Albus tapped her on the shoulder rapidly and said “Now.”

Quickly and business-like, Leta straddled him and guided him into her. A few rolls of her hips later and he gripped her thighs tightly and screwed his eyes shut as he unloaded. Panting lightly and totally spent, he lay back on the bed and looked at Leta, who stayed on top of him for a few moments longer. 

“I heard some muggles saying that if you lay with your hips propped up for a few minutes it can help chances of conception.” 

Leta rolled her eyes and got off of him, laying down on the bed next to him, her head on his shoulder. “I think it’ll work the same either way, but if we get desperate I may result to your muggle tricks.”

They lay in silence for a few minutes longer, listening to each other breathe and sorting through any weirdness that may have arisen from their strange sexual encounter. Finally, Albus reached down and held her hand. “Thank you.”

“For what?”

“For accepting me. For loving me. For being willing to do this crazy thing we’re doing. I don’t know, Leta. For everything, I guess.”

She smiled and squeezed his hand. “I could say the same.”

For the next three weeks, Albus and Leta repeated the same exercise once or twice a day with mixed, but mostly positive, results. She hadn’t been home in that time and had stopped responding to Theseus’s letters. On the day she was going to take her first pregnancy test, Albus asked her a question. 

“What are you planning on doing about Theseus? In his mind the two of you are still betrothed.”

She blew out a breath. “I don’t know, Albus. I mean, I don’t like him much and he’s a bit of a tosser, but he never treated me poorly.”

“Do you want my advice?”

“Not usually, but sure why not.” 

Ignoring her jibe, Albus continued. “My advice is to tell him that you wish to break off the engagement and that while you are under no compulsion to reveal to him the reason why, you can safely say that he did nothing wrong.”

“Your advice is to say ‘it’s not you, it’s me;?”

“In simple terms, yes, I suppose so. There is a reason it’s a cliche, dear. It works.”

“Ugh, fine. I’m doing it by letter though.” Leta, not wanting to waste any time or lose her momentum, walked over and plopped at Albus’s desk, drawing up parchment and a quill.

“Theseus,” she narrated aloud as she wrote, “I am writing to officially end our engagement. While I firmly believe I am under no compulsion to explain my personal reasons to you, I wish to do what I can to ease your worries or any guilt you feel. You have been a kind and considerate partner, and no part of my decision in this matter is any fault of yours. Please do not contact me again.”

Holding it up in a triumphant display, Leta smiled at Albus. “There, done!”

“I think that should work, but you know in person would be better.”

“I do, but I also know it would be much more tedious and uncomfortable, so I’m going to go with no on that one.”

Leta walked to the open window and tapped on the glass. About ten seconds later a beautiful barn owl swooped down onto the ledge. She tied her letter to its leg, patted it on the head, and sent it off with the instructions “Deliver to Theseus Scamander. No response requested.”

One uncomfortable task done, she leaned back in Albus’s chair and kicked her feet up on his desk, dramatically sighing as she did so.

“Well, now that that task has been removed from our path, would you allow me to steal some of your blood for a pregnancy test?”

Still feigning exhaustion, she merely held out her left arm and waited for him to prepare his desk for the test. Getting a potion and a small knife out of his cupboard, he carried them to Leta and set them in front of her. 

Holding the knife against the base of her thumb, he asked “Are you ready?”

With her silent nod, he drew a small cut across her thumb and held it over the potion, allowing a few drops of her blood to fall into it. Leta, no longer able to feign disinterest or exhaustion, watched the liquid as closely as Albus did. 

After thirty seconds, the contents of the cup turned a pale, pretty orange. Leta sat up straighter and grasped blindly for Albus’s hand. 

He turned to her grinning and placed a hand on her stomach, tears in his eyes. “We’re having a baby.”

Leta wiped her own tears away. “Baby girl Dumbledore.”

They clung to each other then, crying and laughing with all of their hopes and desires and fears laid out for the other to see. Two murderers, two monsters, two troubled souls, and they had discovered a kinship they thought impossible. 

They were going to be parents, and, as each one silently resolved, they were going to be the best parents anyone could possibly be.


	5. Conversations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Literally just dialogue. Important dialogue, but still just dialogue.

Lena, not wanting to risk running into Theseus (or anyone, really), spent the next few weeks mostly in Albus’s chambers at Hogwarts. She went out on brief excursions to Hogsmeade, and even made a few of her first forays into muggle Britain, but on the whole actively avoided society. 

One thing she did take to doing with her copious free time was researching pregnancy and parenthood. Madam Pince gave Albus a few sidelong looks as he checked out some of those books for Leta, but the code of a librarian is as strict as the code of a mediwitch. She never did, and never will, divulge or shame someone for their reading interests. 

On Leta’s list of things to accomplish so far were:   
1\. Where to raise their daughter  
2\. How to educate her  
3\. Contingencies for if something happened to her and Albus  
4\. Choosing a name

“Albus,” Leta said to him one evening not too long after the positive pregnancy test, “what do you think?” She handed him a parchment with her current tasks to accomplish and waited for a response.

He read it quickly, nodding along. “I think these are certainly things we need to come to an agreement on. What would you like to start with?”

She took the list back and glanced at it with a quirk of her mouth. “I know it’s morbid, but I think we should start with contingencies. The world is fucked and I don’t want to risk giving her anything less than the best chance in it.”

“I agree.” Albus held Leta’s gaze and smiled softly. “And I do have an idea, though I’m not sure you’ll like it very much.”

“Not sure I like the sound of that...” Leta said with her brows furrowed in suspicion, “but go ahead and spit it out.”

“I think, and hear me out before you reject me, I think that Minerva would be an excellent choice as a godmother.”

“What? She hates me!” Leta disregarded his plea to hear him out first.

“She never hated you, Leta--”

“You weren’t the recipient of her suspicious glares and docking of house points and defending your bullies, Albus.”

“Yes, well,” he was going to argue but thought better of it and sighed instead. “Minerva and I have had this conversation before, Leta. She never hated you,” he held up his finger to stop Leta’s forthcoming interjection, “but you are accurate in saying she was not your biggest fan.”

“You vexed her to no end. You were clearly brilliant, gifted, and full of potential, but you insisted on defying her and her Gryffindors at every turn. And, of course, even professors are not immune to house prejudice.”

“She saw me as a thug and nothing more, Albus. I don’t want her projecting that on our daughter if something were to happen to us.”

“Now that,” Albus said emphatically, “is something that would absolutely never happen. One of Minerva’s greatest strengths, and occasional weakness, as you saw, is her intense loyalty to her cubs. I’ve seen her comforting a sobbing child, disciplining a rebellious one, being harsh in the classroom, and being kind in an individual tutoring session.”

Leta sat in silence, but something in her body language encouraged Albus to continue.

“Minerva has her flaws, and I think some of those flaws led her afoul of you during your schooling years. Though, and you must not deny this, Leta, you often purposefully provoked her.” When Leta rolled her eyes and gave a sort of sideways nod in acknowledgement, Albus smiled.

“How about I invite her here tomorrow evening and we all have a conversation? Would that be amenable?” 

Leta pondered his proposition for a couple of moments before nodding slightly. “Yes, I suppose it would be.”

“Splendid. Let’s see then, what other topics do we have?” Albus consulted the list once more and said “Name, education, and where to live.”

“I think it best if we start with where to live. As much as I love your space here,” Leta gestured around them at the cluttered room, “we need a family home.”

“Of course. I think the biggest question there is how involved with or removed from society you want to be. We could easily afford a nice home in the center of wizarding London, if that’s what you desired,” Leta made a face of displeasure and Albus nodded his agreement. “Yes, I thought so too. We can also easily afford a manor in the countryside, or a cottage, or a cabin in the woods, or a private island off the coast of Scotland, or really anything.”

“I want to give her the life I didn’t have. I want her to see nature, and explore her passions, and not have to learn pureblood politics at the teat.” 

Once again, Albus nodded his agreement. “I want that for her too. I kind of picture us in a small house on the coast somewhere. Not quite as small as a cottage, but not a full manor either.”

“You know, we might already own a place like that.”

“Really?” 

“I mean, between the Dumbledore and Lestrange holdings I’m sure there are a ton of properties we don’t know about. You should have your attorney look into it.”

“I’ll do that.”

“Okay good. Now that that ball is moving, let’s talk education.” Leta said in a businesslike manner.

“I assumed she would be coming to Hogwarts. It’s both of our alma maters, and if I do say so myself it’s the best school around” Albus said, every inch a proud professor and star pupil.

Leta made yet another face of displeasure and Albus stopped talking.

“Albus, I know you love it here, but I never did. I wasn’t anything but miserable my entire time at Hogwarts. It was too rigid, too discriminatory against Slytherins, too stifling of my nature. And of Newt’s. I don’t want our daughter to go somewhere that her more odd interests will be put down and not allowed to flourish, or where she’ll be bullied for her house assignment. I just… I don’t know.” Leta fell silent and let Albus think.

Thoughts battled for dominance in Albus’s mind. He wanted to dismiss her, to say she hadn’t tried hard enough, that she hadn’t made an effort to fit in and be a team player, but then he realised that that attitude was exactly what she was rebelling against. They shouldn’t expect kids to fit in, and they certainly shouldn’t reward them for it. 

“I understand your argument,” Albus began, and Leta looked at him in surprise, expecting disagreement, “but I think that what you’re describing exists in any formalized education setting. We can and should do more as a staff to fight it, but I worry that it is the inherent nature of groups of humans, child or adult, to codify and exclude.”

“Doesn’t mean I have to like it.”

Albus chuckled. “No, nor does it mean we as parents have to accept it.” Suddenly his eyes lit up with an idea. “How would you feel about homeschooling?”

“I… I’m not sure. That hasn’t really been in vogue since my grandparents era, has it?”

“It never fully went away, but most families have decided that the ease of formal education establishments is more than worth the cost of attendance.”

“That being said,” Albus continued, “I think that between the two of us we can give our daughter an amazing education at home. It would take a lot of planning, and hard work from all parties involved, but it would be a style of education tailored exclusively for her.”

“Obviously I love that, but I hardly think I’m qualified to teach.”

“Don’t sell yourself short, Leta. You’re absolutely brilliant when you put your mind to it, and if there are any concepts you need brushing up on I can either tell you myself or ask one of the other staff members. I don’t know everything, after all.”

Leta laughed openly and shot back with “No? Just mostly everything, then?”

“Correct.”

They each laughed for a minute and then Albus glanced back at the list. “I’ll do some research on homeschooling, but would you like to talk about name now?”

Leta nodded her assent.

“Do you have any ideas or strong inclinations?”

“I have some thoughts, but nothing really strong or concrete. I did wonder though…” she trailed off, tone unsure. 

“About what?” Albus prompted.

“I wondered whether you would want to name her after your sister. Maybe even just a middle name. Obviously I fully understand if you don’t, but it’s something I would be open to if you want it.”

Albus’s throat closed up and he looked away mistily, not expecting the sudden onslaught of emotion. 

Leta took that to mean she messed up, and she muttered out a hasty apology. “I’m sorry, that was probably too much. We don’t have to do it.”

“No, no, don’t apologize,” Albus had regained control and wiped at his eyes. “I just wasn’t expecting the offer and it caught me off guard.”

He continued, “I feel a few complicated emotions about that, and I would like time to consider.”

“Of course, we have time. About eight months of it, actually.”

“Eight months.”


	6. An Angry Scot

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Minerva dinner.

“Minerva, will you join me and a guest for dinner this evening?” Albus approached Minerva in the professor’s lounge after a staff meeting and asked her in a quiet voice.

Minerva looked at him with a raised brow. “Who is the guest?”

“I’d rather not say just yet,” in case it makes you decide not to come, he continued silently, “but it is of the greatest importance to me.”

Clearly she didn’t like the mystery, but Minerva nodded in agreement anyway, her trust for Albus outweighing her dislike of uncertainty. “What time? What dress?”

“7, and casual, definitely casual.”

“Very well.” Minerva’s lips thinned into the severe line that Albus knew frightened children every year, and she spun on her heel and walked out of the room. 

Nodding, trying to convince himself that this was in fact a good idea, he made a beeline to his chambers to tell Leta. 

\---

“Leta, love, calm down.”

She was pacing from the bedroom to the desk, and Albus was growing concerned. Initially he thought she would wear her anxieties out, but now, an hour in, he could see that wasn’t going to happen.

“You’re going to wear a hole in the floor if you keep this up.”

She looked up at him with a trademarked icy glare, but thankfully stopped walking and collapsed onto the couch. “She’s going to hate me.” Then, letting one arm fall dramatically over the side of the couch, she moaned a “she already hates me.”

Albus walked into the sitting room and perched on the arm of the couch, giving her legs a quick pat. “And, what if she does?”

She opened her eyes and looked at him in confusion. “Aren’t you supposed to be reassuring me that she’s not going to hate me?”

He shrugged and smiled. “You wouldn’t believe me if I did, so I figured I’d skip straight to the worst case scenario.”

She didn’t look convinced, but motioned for him to continue.

“If she refuses to hear you out, refuses to admit any wrongdoing, refuses to guard our child in the event of our deaths, what happens?”

Leta shrugged.

“What happens is that we’ll find someone else and you won’t ever have to talk to or see her again. Is that so bad an outcome?”

“No, but what about you? She’s your friend. I don’t want that ruined because of me.”

“If she unjustly scorns the mother of my child and refuses to be civil and hear us out in our time of need, then she isn’t the friend I thought she was. That will not be your fault, Leta, but hers.”

Leta closed her eyes again and let out a loud sigh. “Thank you, Albus.”

“Any time, dear. And if it makes you feel any better, I may have more to worry about from her than you.”

“How do you reckon that?”

“Oh come on. Secretly marrying and impregnating a poor, unsuspecting former student of mine? Quite offensive to social sensibilities.”

Leta let out a peal of laughter and felt some of her anxiety dissipate with it.

Twenty minutes later, there was a knock on the door. Leta was sitting at the table, visible from the door, but her back was turned to it. Albus went to let Minerva in. 

“Minerva, come in, come in. We’re at the dining table this evening.”

“What, not your usual scarfing meals at your desk?” Minerva jibed at him, and Leta almost smiled. She appreciated it when Albus got knocked down a few pegs. His ego could get a little unruly at times.

“I’ll have you know that I am quite civilized and understand proper etiquette.”

Leta decided to just rip off the band-aid and stood to face the two professors. “You just decide to ignore it all, is that it?”

Minerva’s face showed clear shock, but to her credit she kept walking and stuck out her hand in greeting when she got close enough. “Ms. Lestrange.”

Leta winced but moved to return the handshake. “Please, call me Leta.”

“Very well.”

They all sat around the table and Albus broke the uncomfortable tension that arose. “Minerva, I’m sure you’re wondering why we’re all here.” She nodded and gave him a look that said _obviously_.

“Well, Leta and I reconnected a few months ago and a lot of things have happened since then. Before we get into it though, and we will get into it, I promise, but Leta wanted to have a conversation with you. I’m here to act as a facilitator, maybe a mediator, should it come to that.”

Leta nodded and let the ice wash over her on instinct, but before she looked up at Minerva with her icy stare, Albus kicked her under the table and she glanced at him in annoyance. He just smiled and mouthed “nice.” 

Fighting her instincts, she managed to drop her icy mask and look at Minerva with a much less hostile expression. “I won’t say it’s nice to see you again, professor, because I’m not sure that would really be the truth for either of us, but I can say that it’s nice to have an adult conversation with you.”

Minerva conceded to her comment about it not being nice with an inclination of her head, which gave Leta hope that she was going to at least be honest during the conversation. 

“You hurt me a lot during my school years, professor, and I’ve been trying to move past it-- well, Albus has been trying to get me to move past it-- but I don’t think I can without talking to you about it.”

Minerva leaned back in her chair and crossed her arms, clearly feeling defensive. “How do you think I hurt you?”

“Promise you’ll hear me out before you talk?”

Minerva rolled her eyes as though laughing at the thought of her not having self-control, but nodded. 

“I’m going to talk for a while, so Albus you might want to get some drinks for us.”

As Albus moved to do just that, Leta began.

“I’d like to start by admitting my fault in this, professor. Many times I purposefully antagonized you and others, and instead of asking for help when I was being bullied and giving any of you a chance to help me, I took matters into my own hands and nearly always escalated things to violence.”

“Not that you could’ve known any of this at the time, but that’s what I was taught. When your father captures and rapes your mother under the Imperius Curse, murders his second wife, blames you for the death of his only son, and turns his fists and wand and lecherous eye on you in his many drunken stupors, you learn early on not to rely on the authority figures in you life.”

Minerva uncrossed her arms and placed one of her hands over her mouth.

“And when the other kids at school taunt you about your dead brother and how your father doesn’t want you, you lash out, because they don’t understand. They couldn’t possibly understand.” Leta’s voice broke and she wiped angrily at the single tear that escaped.

“With what Albus has told me about you, I know now that if I had confided in either of you you would have helped me, but that wasn’t an option I ever would have trusted at the time. And when you always defended my bullies because they were your precious Gryffindors, and when you never even asked me for my side of the story, that made it a million times worse.”

“I probably wouldn’t have told you the truth if you had asked me anything personal, since, no offense, I feared my father’s violence more than your punishments, but the fact that you never even asked hurt me deeply. You saw me as a thug and nothing more, and after a time I thought that if that’s what you saw me as then I might as well just become it.”

Leta stopped talking but still couldn’t look at Minerva, so she reached out a shaking hand for her glass of water instead. Minerva waited until Leta stopped drinking to respond. 

“Leta,” at the pained sound of Minerva’s voice, Leta looked up and was beyond shocked to see that Minerva’s eyes were red and her cheeks wet.

“Leta, I am sorry. I am so sorry.”

“You shouldn’t have had to confess your trauma and abuse to me for me to do my bloody job. I am charged with protecting and nurturing students, and to hear that I did the opposite of that with you, I just… I’ve never been quite this ashamed of myself.”

Leta looked at Albus, who gave her a kind of “told you so” look, and then looked back at Minerva, searching her for some sign of deception. “You aren’t going to argue with me? Say that it was my fault?”

“No! No, of course not.” 

“I know it does not make any difference to the past, but you were here during my first years as a professor. I had only been out of Hogwarts myself for about three years, and I hadn’t yet found my footing. I am beyond sorry that my inexperience and residual house bias hurt you, Leta.”

And Leta could see that she really was.

“Why the house bias?” Leta was curious.

Minerva rolled her eyes and scoffed. “Bloody quidditch, that’s why.”

“Ah yes, I remember that,” Albus deemed it safe enough to hop back into the conversation. “Your seventh year, the Slytherin beater hit your head like it was bludger and you went down hard.”

Minerva winced at the memory. 

“You broke, what, four ribs? And got a concussion?”

“I remember perfectly well, thank you for that.”

Leta smiled at their interaction. 

“And Leta, dear, since you shared something personal… I was going through a lot of personal issues at that time. It does not in any way excuse my behavior, and I don’t want you to think that I’m trying to make excuses for that, but I think you deserve my trust. I was dealing with some family issues, and a bit of a case of a broken heart, and it was an unpleasant period for me.”

“I’m--”

Minerva cut off Leta’s response. “No apologies, please. That’s my role in this conversation.”

“Okay.” Leta took another pull from her water and looked at Minerva incredulously. “I’m sorry, this is just so crazy. A week ago I never would have thought I could have a civil conversation with you, let alone get an _apology_ from you, but here we are. It’s fucking crazy.”

Minerva smiled at her and reached across the table to pat her arm, relieved when Leta didn’t pull away from the contact. “Maybe a little.”

Leta started crying then, and she didn’t even notice at first until Minerva looked at her with alarm. 

“Fucking hell.” Leta wiped at her eyes and shook her head in annoyance. “Sorry, this has just been a lot, and then add the pregnancy thing to it and my emotions are kind of on the fritz right now.”

“Pregnancy?” 

Ah, hell. Leta hadn’t meant to say that yet. “Yeah… That’s actually kind of what Albus and I wanted to talk to you about.”

“Albus and you?” Any ounce of softness in Minerva’s gaze left as she turned to look at Albus. “Albus, you had better tell me you did not get this girl pregnant right now, because so help me God, if you did--”

“Woah! It’s okay, Minerva. I’m thirty years old, not a child you have to defend any more.” Leta tried to defuse the situation but only seemed to make it worse.

“So it’s true? You impregnated this girl, Albus? You have no idea what you’ve done, do you? You don’t know how difficult it is to be an unwed mother. And with her name? I’m surprised the gossip columnists aren’t after her already.”

“Calm down, Minnie.” Albus raised his hands in a placating gesture, which of course did nothing at all to placate her. 

“Don’t you ‘Minnie’ me! If it wouldn’t leave a child without a father I would kill you right here, Albus Dumbledore.”

“She’s not going to be an unwed mother, Minerva. We went about this the right way.”

“Meaning?”

“Meaning,” Leta cut in, “that we were married before we conceived our daughter. I assure you, Minerva, that this was all consensual. Albus has been a perfect gentleman all the way through.”

Minerva spluttered. “How-- what-- when--?”

Albus reached over and took Leta’s hand with his. “We were married two months ago, and Leta is about a month and a half into her pregnancy.”

“But she was your student!”

“And is now my best friend and wife and I would die or kill anything or anyone to protect her, Minerva. Things change.” His tone rose in warning, and Minerva understood the threat.

“Well, if you’re both happy,” she looked at Leta, who smiled and nodded back with an earnest expression, “then I suppose I’m happy for you. Though I do confess that I’m surprised, Albus. I always had you pegged for a homosexual.”

Leta laughed and Albus bowed his head. “Is it that obvious?”

“No, dear, I’m sure most people don’t suspect a thing.” Leta patted his arm.

“Wait, you are?” Minerva was looking more confused with each subsequent revelation.

“Yes,” Albus confirmed, doing nothing to lift Minerva’s confusion.

“He’s the other half of my soul, Minerva. He understands me in ways nobody else does or ever has. We each wanted a child. I didn’t want to give it my cursed name and he didn’t think he ever could have one, but then we realized that the answer was sitting right in front of us.”

“We had enough of a sexual involvement to produce our daughter, but I suspect that will be the end of our romantic tryst, as it were.” Albus added. “We love each other and love our daughter and will be the best parents that we can possibly be, and we can do all of that platonically.”

Minerva downed the rest of her wine glass in one pull. “This is all very unconventional, but I stay with my earlier statement that as long as the two of you are happy, I support you. Lord knows we need more love and positivity in the world.”

“Speaking of that bad world, we have a request of you.” Albus turned to face Minerva and looked at her hopefully.

“Yes?”

“Minerva McGonagall, will you do us the honor of being our child’s godmother?”

“Oh you bloody fool, of course I will. Lord knows you’re going to need all the help you can get.” Her jibe was undercut by her happy tears, and Albus moved around to hug her, whispering a fervent “Thank you, Minnie” in her ear.

They spent the next two hours eating, talking, and having all in all a wonderful evening together. Over the course of the next few weeks while Albus and Leta found a place to live, Minerva came to his chambers many nights to spend time with them. Leta couldn’t wait until she could drink again, because, as she learned one particularly fun night, a drunk Minerva was an absolute firecracker. 

When Minerva was going off about one of her coworkers in thick, loud, angry Scots, Leta smiled. Her daughter could do a lot worse than having Minerva McGonagall in her life.


	7. Birth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A Dumbledore baby is born.

Albus apparated into the living room with a crack that was softer than usual, being dissipated as it was by the dense humidity of the air. Immediately sweating, he shucked off his vest, loosened his tie, and cuffed his sleeves as he walked deeper into the house. 

“Leta?”

“Back here” came her muffled reply, and he followed it down the hall to her bedroom. 

Walking in, he cringed in sympathy as he saw her half naked, lying on her side on the bed, and being fanned by a palm frond enchanted to the task. Where she got the frond he didn’t know, but that wasn’t important at the moment. 

“I read a rather interesting article today about homeschooling curriculum choices for magical zoology that we should consider.”

“Albus,” Leta cast him a sideways glare, though devoid of too much heat. “It’s too hot for me to breathe, let alone think.”

“It is rather hot today, isn’t it?”

Leta looked at her enchanted fan, and at the open balcony doors that usually bring in cool ocean breeze but were currently sitting stagnant. Albus followed her gaze with sympathy. 

“It’s 38 degrees up at Hogwarts, which is bad enough, but I think it’s even hotter here. I’m sorry, love.”

He moved to pat her arm and she leaned over as far as her massively swollen belly would allow and shot him a glare. “Don’t you dare touch me! Did I not just say I’m dying of heat?”

He retracted his hand quickly and gave her a sheepish smile. “Of course, my bad. Is there anything I can do to help?”

“Can you change the weather?”

“No, but I can charm a few more fans and run a cold bath. Will that help?”

Albus took her groan as a “Yes” and moved toward her bathroom to start the bath. A few minutes later saw him helping her waddle into the bathroom and climb into the tub. 

“You’re a god among men, Albus. Thank you.”

He laughed. “I’ll be down the hall if you need anything.”

They had moved into their little seaside house after two months of living in Albus’ chambers at Hogwarts, so they’d been in the new house for nearly 7 months. It was one of many properties turned up when Albus had his attorney dig into all of their combined holdings, and one of three they had de-warded and made fit for habitation. 

It was a modest property, more like Albus’ childhood home than Leta’s childhood mansion, but they both felt it suited their personalities well. And, more importantly, they felt it would be a nice and removed place for them to raise their daughter. 

Albus apparated to Hogwarts every morning and home every evening, and on the few occasions when he was required to stand overnight duty, Minerva took it for him with a strongly worded “You will not leave your pregnant wife home alone, mister!”

While Leta cooled off in the tub, he shucked off his shirt and tie and sat sprawled out on their sofa. The weather really was insane. He was almost certain it was a record high for the country of Scotland; the only time in recorded history that sounded like this level of heat was on the day of Merlin’s birth, and that was half legend and probably exaggerated anyway.

He must have dozed off for a minute, because he woke up to a screamed, panicky “Albus!!” from Leta’s direction. Whipping out his wand and hopping to his feet, he shouted “Coming!” and ran quickly in her direction. 

When he got into the bathroom he saw her standing beside the tub with her hands clutching her distended stomach.

“What is it? Are you hurt?”

“No, no,” Leta shook her head and Albus relaxed his posture, “but she’s coming. Now.”

Albus immediately regained rigidity in his spine. “The baby?”

“Yes the bloody baby, Albus! Who else would I be--” she cut off and hunched forward, face scrunched up in pain.

“What’s happening?”

“Your bloody child is happening, that’s what! Get the midwife here, and Minerva.”

“On it.” 

Albus sent an emergency letter via owl to the midwife, who lived in the nearest town, and apparated directly to Minerva’s chambers in Hogwarts. Minerva’s chambers, which were, of course, empty. 

“Shit.”

He stole out of the room and ran to her office around the corner, barging in unannounced to see her engaged in a tutoring session with a second year Hufflepuff.

“Professor Dumbledore,” her voice was pinched and she was clearly annoyed at being interrupted, “what can I do for you?”

Not wanting to reveal his private information in front of the student, he floundered for a second before deciding on saying “It’s happening.”

Her gaze turned sharp as she took in his dishevelled appearance. “It?”

“Yes, it! Please come, she’s asked for you.”

“McEwan, forgive me, but we’ll have to reschedule. An emergency situation just came up.” Without even waiting for the student to leave, or for Albus to accompany her, she apparated directly to the Dumbledore house. 

McEwan looked at Albus in confusion and no small ounce of alarm, given Albus being clad in an undershirt and no shoes, but Albus just shrugged, turned on the spot, and disappeared as well. 

When he arrived in Leta’s bedroom he saw preparations for delivery already underway, before Minerva took one arm and the midwife took the other and bodily dragged him from the room. 

“The father will wait outside. The birthing room is no place for a man.” The midwife’s voice rivalled Madame Pince’s in severity, and Albus’ protests were shut down with gusto. 

Ditching him outside the door, he heard the lock click as the women closed it behind them. He threw up his hands in frustration and stalked to the end of the hallway. Then the other end. Then the other end. He kept up his small patrol for an hour, never wanting to get more than ten feet from the door.

The heat didn’t matter, his sore feet didn’t matter, nothing mattered beyond the grunts and screams he could hear through the locked door. And then all time stopped as he heard her for the first time. His baby’s voice, crying and screaming, breathing in her first breaths of air in their seaside home. 

He walked toward the door, pulled by that miraculous sound. 

“Not yet, let’s get you decent first.” The midwife’s voice came through the door and Albus frowned. 

“I said let him in.” Leta’s voice replied softly, clearly exhausted, but with her same accustomed force of will and expectation to be obeyed.

“In a minute, dear.”

“No. Now.”

With that, the doors flew open and Albus rushed in. He didn’t even stop to notice Minerva and the midwife’s shocked faces at Leta’s burst of wandless magic, or even Leta herself, as bad as that might be. The only thing he could see was his daughter, crying from her place on her mother’s chest. 

Albus walked to Leta and their daughter and stopped just inches from them, transfixed. “My God.”

Leta reached out and grabbed his hand in her free one before looking down at the baby on her chest. “There now, little one. Your daddy is here.”

With that simple phrase, Albus’ tears fell from his eyes in pure, unadulterated joy. “Thank you.” He didn’t know who he was thanking, not really, but he knew this was a gift that deserved all the thanks in the world. 

Later that evening, Minerva took a signed birth proclamation to Millicent’s desk at the Ministry.

“Can I help you, ma’am?”

“Yes, I’m here on behalf of Mr. and Mrs. Dumbledore. I have a task that requires your...discretion.”

Millicent gulped but nodded.

“What payment do you require for your services?” 

Millicent met a nice pureblood man at the Yule Ball and had been seeing him since then, but hadn’t managed to land a ring on her finger quite yet. He wasn’t one of the Sacred 28, and as such missed some exclusive invitations, so she figured if she got him admitted to one of those then she might convince him of her worth as a wife. 

“Admission for two to the Black’s Samhain Feast.”

Minerva nodded once, displaying no emotion. “It will be done.” She fished the proof of birth out of her pocket and placed it on the counter between the two witches. “Enter this birth announcement into the magical registry. Ensure no word of it gets to the press.”

“Birth announcement? There’s a Dumbledore heir!?” Millicent knew that was major, House of Lords shaking news, but at Minerva’s harsh glare she stifled her excitement. 

“I feel the Dumbledores are enough to function as sufficient threat, but allow me to add myself to that list just in case. If you jeopardize my godchild’s upbringing in any way, then so help me God I will rain hellfire down upon you.” She paused and levelled a glare at Millicent that was enough to quiet even the most unruly student. “Understood?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Good.”

And just like that, Circe Ariana Dumbledore was entered into the magical birth registry.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Minor point, but there is apparating in and out of Hogwarts in this, based on what we saw in Fantastic Beasts with apparation occurring on the grounds. I'm going to work with the assumption that professors and anyone with Headmaster approval can apparate into Hogwarts in this time period.


	8. growing up

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Circe begs her parents for a wand, but neither side knows quite what they're in for

“But Papa, why can’t I get a wand?”

Albus and Circe, who was closing in on nine years old and showing a temperament remarkably similar to her mother’s, were on their daily sunrise walk along the ocean cliff. In just an hour Albus would be heading off to Hogwarts where he wouldn’t return from until nearly dinner time, so their morning walks meant everything to Circe. 

Right now, for example, they meant that she had an entire hour of time from which he couldn’t escape her questions or defer them to her mother, who was somehow always able to talk her in a circle and smile at her all the while. It was infuriating, but Circe was a quick study.

Albus stroked his beard, which he had decided to start growing out in the past year and now hung several inches below his chin. 

“We’ve been over this, Circe. Wands are traditionally given to children during their eleventh year. I know it feels like forever, but it will be here before you know it.”

Circe kicked a rock off the cliff.

“That’s because most kids start formal education then and need it for school lessons, right?

“Traditionally yes, but--”

“But I’m not going to a formal institution, right?”

“Correct, but there are more reasons than just the practical matter of needing a wand for classes. Most children aren’t advanced enough to know and control their magic at a young age. Honestly from what I see every year I think eleven is still too young for most of them.”

Circe hummed quietly under her breath.

“Just to make sure I’m following your logic, “ Circe borrowed a phrase from her mother and Albus suppressed a smile at her imitation, “the reasons I’m not allowed to get a wand are in no way legal, but rather that it’s a tradition kept around because most kids are untalented idiots,” Albus sent her a sharp look and she sighed, “fine, most kids are lacking in magical control?”

Albus stayed silent, thinking over her words and looking for the chink in her armor. He couldn’t find one and mentally cursed himself for allowing Leta to start pureblood social lessons with Circe last year. At the time it had seemed like a good idea to prepare her for the world ahead, but now?

“I suppose… you’re correct.” He conceded the round to Circe with a slight inclination of his head. 

“I’d like a meeting tonight,” Circe said. The Dumbledore family believed in fairness and communication, and routinely had open forum meetings where they worked through issues or proposed ideas. The last one had been about where they wanted to go on their next family vacation, for instance. (They went to wizarding Tibet, though Egypt was a close second option).

So though Albus had a suspicion he wouldn’t like the outcome of the meeting, he couldn’t very well refuse it and maintain their carefully crafted family of communication and trust. “Very well, I’ll speak to your mother. I’m sure we can all sit down after dinner.”

Debate done, Circe smiled and hugged Albus around his middle, shucking her professional persona as easily as she had donned it.

“You’re trouble, you know that?” Albus said to her as he helped her up for a piggyback ride.

Circe kissed his whiskery cheek and laughed.

\---

“So in conclusion, due primarily to my competence with wandless magic and intellectual curiosity unmatched by my peers, and the flexibility allowed for in a homeschooling curriculum, I should be allowed to receive my wand on my 9th birthday.”

Leta and Albus nodded politely and Circe sat back down on the living room couch. Her face was a passable mask, but she betrayed her nerves by twisting and moving her fingers around each other. 

When Albus brought Circe’s arguments and concerns to Leta after the morning walk, Leta laughed and said “It’s about time she got her arguments in line.”

“What do you mean? You wanted her to win this argument?”

“Honestly, I think your objection to her getting a wand is more just you not wanting to let go of her sweet babyhood. Which is understandable,” she raised a placating hand to him when he started to object, “but she’s brilliant and driven and more ready to begin wandwork than I bet even you were at that age. She’s a bloody prodigy, Albus.”

“She’s still only eight.”

“Try to examine her as you would a student during an exam. Objectively look at her skills, not her age or her relationship to you.”

“Okay.”

“Do you honestly think she can’t handle it?”

Albus sighed in defeat then, knowing Leta was right. “I know you’re right, but I still think she needs to earn the privilege of a wand in some grander way. It’s a big deal, you know?”

Leta said she would think on it during the day, and Albus said he would back whatever choice she made at the meeting. So here he sat silently, waiting for Leta to take the lead.

“I agree with you,” Circe’s eyes lit up at Leta’s words, “mostly.”

“You are smart and driven, nobody can deny that, and your raw magical potential is perhaps greater even than your father’s, but you are still young.”

Circe opened her mouth to object and Leta almost laughed as she saw Albus’ pride in her as clear as day. “Don’t argue the facts, dear. Save it for points you can actually refute.”

“You are young, and having a wand is a big step forward in responsibility. I would like to propose a way forward that will end in us being satisfied of your preparedness, and you with a wand in your hand.”

“What is it?” Circe held back her enthusiastic agreement when she caught sight of the suspicious glint in her mom’s eyes. 

“Professor McGonagall will design a thorough wandless exam for you, testing you in power, control, and any other area she deems essential for a wand wielder. Notice I said Professor McGonagall though, dear. She will be acting in her role as an educator, not as your Aunt Minnie.”

Circe wasn’t able to hold back her small eye roll and smile. Aunt Minnie was the best, this was going to be a piece of cake.

\---

Circe slouched into the living room from the French doors to the patio and walked straight to where Leta sat reading a book on the couch, and then collapsed into her lap. 

“I don’t like Professor McGonagall,” she mumbled into her mom’s leg, too tired to turn her face anywhere else.

Leta looked down at the sweaty worn-out ball of child on her lap and then out of the doors, where Minerva and Albus were talking and looking very professor-y. “Ah I’m sorry sweetheart, did Aunt Minnie put you through the paces?”

Circe summoned the energy to roll onto her back so she could level her mom with a glare.

“That bad, huh?”

“She made me do _everything_, Mama. I even had to go into her mind and find the clue to unlock a puzzle and then I had to pick a magically reinforced lock and get rid of a spider inside the box before I could even _do_ the puzzle and it was just _awful_.”

Leta had given total control to Minerva once she agreed to test Circe a few days ago, but she had to admit she was surprised by some of what Circe just said. Mind magic from an eight year old? Minerva seriously didn’t hold back.

“Well it sounds like a thorough test, and I’m sure you did your best. Why don’t you lay here for a few and I’ll go see if they’re ready to come give you the results, okay?”

Circe just groaned and stayed as dead weight as Leta slid out from under her and dropped her unceremoniously back onto the couch. She padded outside on bare feet and crossed the patio to where Albus and Minerva were huddled in heated conversation.

Leta heard Albus ask “You’re certain?” when she cleared her throat and made her presence known, arching an eyebrow at the clear tension between the two friends.

“Anyone care to enlighten me on what the hell is going on?”

Albus looked at Minerva and said “Go ahead, this is your theory.”

Minerva looked around and walked to a table and chairs a few feet away, sitting in one and gesturing to the others. “Both of you, sit down.”

“Okay,” Leta began once seated, “what’s going on? You’re scaring me now. Did she do something wrong? Did something happen?”

Leta looked inside and saw Circe fast asleep on the couch, head tilted back with an open mouth and chest rising and falling. Her heart felt full at the sight. 

“Nothing is wrong,” Minerva threw Albus a stern look when he snorted angrily, “but I discovered something of monumental importance. Something I’ve suspected for a while, but only just tested”

Leta looked between Albus and Minerva with growing irritation. “Just spit it out already. You know I don’t like unnecessary build up.”

“It is my belief, my well-founded and thoroughly researched belief,” she threw another look at Albus, “that Circe is the reincarnation of Merlin.”

“You’re fucking with me, right? This is some kind of joke?”

“I’m afraid not. Can I explain?”

Leta sputtered and reached her hand out to grab hold of Albus, crushing his hand in hers. “Yeah. Yeah, I think you’d better do that.”

So Minerva did. 

She told them that the McGonagall family was actually a direct line of descent from King Arthur, and as such had passed down a book of prophecies supposedly written by Merlin’s hand. Her father, the muggle Reverend McGonagall, hadn’t put any stock in it, but he believed in respecting your elders and so agreed to his mother’s dying wish to keep the book safe. 

One day when she was in her 5th year at Hogwarts, Minerva discovered the book tucked away in a dusty corner of the family’s attic. She approached her dad after a few glasses of brandy and a rare good mood, and he told her all about their family’s supposed history of keeping Merlin’s prophecies safe.

She took the book back to Hogwarts with her, promising her father with her life that she would keep it safe and hidden (though he was secretly glad for it to be someone else’s problem), and she studied it. 

Merlin was a servant and friend to the muggle King Arthur, helping him on his rise to the throne. One of his prophecies, however, was that millenia later, a descendant of Arthur would help the reincarnated soul of Merlin rise to a powerful throne himself. This new Merlin would be the most powerful being in the world, and would combat and defeat injustice and evil. It was all pretty storybook.

It was at once the most informative and least informative prophecy in the book. Least informative because it gave no names, or genders, or even a specific time, just veiled allusions. Most informative because it gave a detailed process for how to determine the true leader to which the prophecy referred. 

“I got my first inkling of suspicion on her birthday, since it matched the circumstances of Merlin’s so perfectly, but I thought I was just being paranoid and reminiscing on my youthful research.”

“But she is remarkably talented, and intelligent, and the one time I tried to tap into her magical aura I was blinded by the enormity of her power. So when you asked me to test her, I knew the test I had to do.”

“You can’t just experiment on our daughter, Minerva!” Albus kept his volume down, but anger clearly laced his voice. 

“I had to fulfill my sacred duty as a descendant of the Pendragon line, Albus!” In her anger, her Scottish accent started to come through more strongly. “Nothing about the test was dangerous, and even if it had been negative for the prophecy it is the perfect test for what you both wanted. It tests power, control, and stamina, for one, but also responsibility, compassion, empathy. All of the qualities you want in someone who wields a wand!”

“Then you should’ve at least told us first!”

“And risk having you think I’m crazy and shut me away from Circe? She is your child and I will always respect that, but she is my godchild. I can never have children of my own, and so help me God if I would let you or anyone else hurt her. If the prophecy was about her I had to know. Not so I could help her rise to power or some shite like that, but so I could help her grow into her own power and her own self. She is destined for greatness, and you of all people should know that great people need more grounding and help than the rest of us. I wasn’t going to let her go at it alone.”

Leta had been watching their exchange with a blank face, but Minerva’s rant made her crack. 

“Minerva, you love my daughter. You’ve loved her since before she was even in this world.”

“With all my heart.”

“Then while I agree with Albus and think you should have told us before you did it, I know you mean Circe no harm and can forgive you for that. Albus will too, once he gets some calm minutes to think about it. You just dropped a lot on him, and you know how he is about feeling in the dark.”

Albus just crossed his arms and leaned back in his chair. He knew Leta was right, but he wasn’t ready to give up on his anger quite yet.

“The only thing I need to know right now is what comes next.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, what comes next for Circe? Do we tell her, do we wait to tell her, do we advance her schooling, what do we do?”

Albus uncrossed his arms. “We do nothing.”

The two women looked at him and he took that as invitation to continue. “She might be the next Merlin, but she’s still an eight year old girl. We continue teaching her as we have been, allowing her to dictate the pace at which she advances. We reinforce her good qualities and help her develop her bad. In the end, we love her. She’s our daughter, not some line in an ancient prophecy.”

Leta nodded in agreement. “When she’s older we can consider telling her, but I agree with Albus. We’ll help her learn and explore, all of us, and when she’s ready to take on the world we’ll help her then to.”

Minerva spoke up then. “I agree with that, though I do think one thing should change, and with your permission I’d like to be the one to tell her about it.”

\---

“I passed!!!” Circe’s excitement was enough to propel her exhausted form from the couch and into Minerva’s arms. “Oh thank you thank you thank you thank you!”

When Minerva released her, Circe turned to look at her parents. “So can we go get a wand? Can we go right now?”

Albus and Leta exchanged a glance, silently confirming that yep, she’s still their daughter. Leta smiled and laughed with a small head shake. “We’ll go on your birthday.”

“But that’s so far away,” Circe drew out the last word and whined. 

“It’s in two days, sweetheart. I think you’ll live.”

Circe dramatically groaned again but the corners of her mouth never lost their smile.

She was getting a wand!


End file.
